Misdirection
by Anonymississippi
Summary: Parker's attempts to teach Hardison how to plant stuff on a mark. He can't seem to get it. But then again, Parker doesn't see what's right in front of her. It's all about misdirection. K  for one minor naughty word.


_Hello all. First Leverage fic. I love every single character on there, but the writers seem to be throwing tons of Paker and Hardison at us this season. Which I have no problem with. Anywho, this is my attempt at third person limited via Parker. It comes off as somewhat jarring, I fear. However, I also kinda feel like that's what Parker's mind is like. A little random, personally non-specific, but above all, endearing. I wouldn't really know, though, because I don't own any of the character. TNT, Dean Devlin, that guy Rogers, they got this. They got this like Hardison in an Apple store. Enjoy :)_

"Nope… You might as well be arm-wrestling me. Do it again."

Hardison sighed, and went back to his corner, trudging across the room for what felt like the billionth time that night. Parker sat on the bar stool, grabbing the remote and turning the volume down. A weather reporter gesticulated wildly while the radar showed massive green and yellow splotches covering a map of the greater Boston area. Thunder rumbled as Hardison made his approach, concealing his footsteps. For the first time that night, he caught her off guard, grabbing her wrist as she reached for a handful of mixed nuts.

"You don't want any of those."

"Yeah I do, or else I wouldn't of grabbed them."

"No you don't. Do you know the last time Nate bought decent snack food? The man spends everything on liquor, you think he's gonna spring for something decent like pistachios? Besides, I hear you like pretzels better."

Parker grinned as another crack of thunder sent them both to their feet. Hardison dropped Parker's wrist and the bracelet he was supposed to be putting on her along with it.

"Dammit Hardison!"

"Somehow it doesn't have the same effect when you say it."

Parker ran a hand through her hair and exhaled. They had been working on this reverse lift for a solid two hours and he hadn't come close.

"Hardison, the only way we'll catch Capshaw is if she has the diamond _on her_. Not on the ground _beside her_." She reached down and picked up the bracelet. It was from her personal collection, similar in weight and width to the diamond-studded heirloom they were attempting to plant on their mark in the morning. Well, that Hardison was attempting to plant on their mark. Maybe. Possibly. Unlikely.

"Don't think I haven't already heard this same speech from Nate, but in case you've forgotten, this ain't my forte. The only reason I'm doing it is cause I'm the only one she hasn't seen. I can grab a phone or a wallet as good as the next guy, but you're the one who can practically undress a dude without him knowing."

"I did do that once. He was down to his boxers and undershirt before he realized something was wrong." She smirked. "Said there was a draft in the room."

"What did he ever do to you?"

"Sent me to detention." Parker paused at the memory, inwardly relishing the laughter of her fellow classmates as her geography teacher attempted to cover up his "I love mom" arm tattoo.

"There it is again," Hardison said.

She twisted her head side to side. "There what is?"

"That… face."

"What face? My face? It's always been here."

"No, not your face. You're face is great! I mean, uh, you know, as faces go it's good and uh, symmetrical and you know…" Hardison trailed off. "I just meant that look. It's weird. Like, maniacal scary weird."

She arched an eyebrow and roughly pulled the back of his neck straight down to her face. She was so close she could feel the heat from her own breath on his skin. This was her favorite part. She'd come to notice a direct correlation in eye contact and proximity with Hardison that resulted in his losing the ability to speak or act coherently. Sophie called it _flirting_, but Parker thought it had more to do with that whole 'personal space' thing everyone seemed to care so much about. Except for her, of course.

"Well, if you've got such a problem with it, I'll just frown all the time, that way there's no weirdness or anything about my face."

"No, I mean, that's what Eliot said, you better take it up with him. I already said your face was great."

Putting a smile back on, she let the back of his neck go. "You should try the reverse lift again. And remember, it's all in the misdirection."

"Yeah Parker, I got that." He went to rub the back of his neck, only to find the sapphire practice bracelet covering his left wrist. "When did you—"

She frowned and flung her arm around his neck again.

"Misdirection… right," he said. He started to undo the bracelet on his wrist and took a seat back on the barstool. "So, you uh, climbed any good skyscrapers lately?"

Hmmm. She couldn't tell if he was working on his small talk for the lift or if he was starting in with the questions again. See, Hardison had been _talking_ to her, like a lot more than normal. Just random, little questions here and there. But he had already given her Parker 2000, or Hardi, as it was now termed. But this year, something between them had shifted. Especially since the funeral director job. She didn't like to think about that job. So she didn't.

"I went out to the harbor last weekend. It's got some old brick warehouses I can get footholds in without tons of gear. Sometimes it's just fun to climb for no reason."

"Nice to hear you being productive in your free time." He got up and walked behind the bar. "Want a drink?"

"No thanks."

"Suit yourself." He pulled a can of orange soda from behind the counter.

"What about you?" she asked. "Have you, uh…" Sophie had encouraged this_ talking_ thing. Her only problem was that she was seriously lacking in well, most social communication skills. "Have you been to any more… robot death match thingies?"

Hardison crushed the can and shot it across the room, banking it into the trashcan behind the counter. "Nope, tournaments have all been out of town. Been a little busy with our last few jobs. I did catch a Celtics game the other night, though." He brought his eyes to hers, leaning over the bar. "If you'd like some tickets, I can make that happen. Didn't know if you were a sports fan though."

Parker felt that thing again. That thing she couldn't define that Sophie was helping her work through. She shook her head politely at the question. She didn't like it when her skin did that crawly-thing. It made her feel exposed. Far too exposed in front of Alec… uh, Hardison.

She checked the clock and then looked out the window. The rain was still coming down in sheets, but the lightening and thunder hadn't made a showing for a good ten minutes. "It's after midnight. Let's get this done so I don't have to crash on Nate's couch again."

"Alright, I'm gonna get it this time." He grabbed the bracelet and headed back across the room. He then turned right back around and walked toward her.

"I think I figured out how I'm gonna do it," he said.

Parker was starting to get a little frustrated. She was tired, it was raining, and she had a Landham 720 with heat sensors to break into tomorrow. Not to mention that stupid thing her stomach kept doing every time Hardison sat down next to her.

"We already know what you're doing. You're going to spill a drink, like the wine thing we did a few weeks ago."

"Hey, hold on now girl." This time, he grabbed the back of her neck with one hand, and her wrist with the other. Really? A nine-year old was better at planting items than he was. She was quite positive of this. Something about orphan pickpockets and a guy named Fagin.

"Look Hardison, it's not like you're going to be this close to her tomorrow. If you can't even get the bracelet on me, maybe I can ask Nate to let me do it while you cause a distraction. Capshaw deserves to go down, and that shiny circle is—" She was cut off by another peal of thunder, this one so close to the bar door it was like Eliot had busted through it. She jumped again, but Hardison stayed seated, once again missing the bracelet on her wrist.

"Maybe you're right. I won't let my ego get in the way of the con. We can talk to Nate about it in the morning. We better head out before it gets any worse." He helped her with her coat and they parted ways after locking up the bar.

Parker caught a cab at the corner, and then walked a block to her latest investment, a small flat she had purposefully bought within two miles from the bar for her late nights. She stripped off her jacket, clinging to her wet skin, and towel dried her hair. As her tank came off, something snagged around her neck. After some maneuvering, she discovered a thin, gold chain. She hadn't put any jewelry on that day, not even the bracelet she used for Hardison's practice session. She'd stowed it safely in her pocket. In fact, she never really wore jewelry at all. Too much of a chance to set off a metal detector. She liked jewelry best where it should be: in her nightstand drawer where she could take it out and admire it under bright halogen bulbs with a magnifying glass. Just like most normal people. She eyed the chain more closely in the bathroom mirror, finding a series of tiny zero's and one's on a rectangular, barely-there gold plate: 01110000 01100001 01110010 01101011 01100101 01110010 00100000 01101111 01101110 01100101. She counted them, and they all seemed to be in random order, and each collection of numbers was separated by an even thinner line of white gold. It was nearly impossible to see each figure. Curiosity overtook fatigue, and soon she had her computer on and Google at her fingertips.

"Zeros and ones…" she mumbled.

She'd done enough computer work to know it was binary, but she wanted to know if it was some sort of tracking device. She didn't like people knowing where she was, and deciphering this bit of binary might prove helpful in deciding whether to add the chain to her collection or to quickly run it through a meat grinder. She found, among the various programs Hardison had installed on her computer, a binary decoder. She quickly typed in the sequence, double-checking the order, and found that the series read 'Parker1'. She bit her lower lip, wondering where she went from here. Parker 2000 had, technically, been a gift. But it was useful on the job. Celtics tickets, binary necklaces, occasional handholding (on the job, of course), that fell into a different category. One that made her uncomfortable but exhilarated.

She rolled out of the sling-hammock she had strung through the rafters and skidded across the hard wood floor, snagging her phone as she hopped onto the couch. She stared at the screen a long time. The last time she felt that uncomfortable, exhilarated feeling was the first time she dove from a building in her rigging. Something about the uncertainty of it all made it too appealing to avoid. Much like her situation now. She punched in Hardison's number.

"Hey girl, you didn't drown did you?"

"What? No, why would I do that?"

"Cause it's raining like Noah's flood."

"Oh, that, no… I wanted to ask you something else."

"Shoot."

"I came home with more than I took away with me this morning."

Silence. It was that nondescript beat that had been happening between them a lot lately, even over the phone.

"I mean, um, I like it. It's nice," Parker said.

"Yeah well, you know how it is. It's nothing special, really. But if you're worried about it setting off alarms or anything, it should be fine. See I slicked it down with this chemical—"

"Hardison…"

"Nothing dangerous! Promise, it just keeps the metal from registering—"

"No, Hardison, it's great. It really is. But I think I like the way I got it better than the thing itself."

"Misdirection?"

She smiled into the phone and climbed back in her hammock. "Yeah, misdirection. Putting on a necklace when you should be putting on a bracelet. Very good. Maybe you can handle the reverse tomorrow after all."

"I think I'll let the original take this one."

"Yeah, original. Parker 1." Her eyes drifted shut as she lay down, one leg haphazardly thrown over the side of the parachute material holding her eight feet in the air. She dangled the chain from her free hand, swinging it back and forth.

"Hardison? That first bit… that wasn't my question."

"What is it then?"

She took another deep breath and stopped twirling the chain. "Why do you, you know, give me stuff?"

He chuckled over the phone. "I'm Santa Claus. I like giving people stuff. I gave Eliot a video console the other week."

"That's cause you wanted to play that game where you get to blow him up."

"Yeah, boy got his tail wooped in some Halo. He thinks he's so badass with them knives, I'll show him what a virtual bomber can do."

"Hardison, I mean for real. I'm thankful, don't get me wrong but, what does this… mean? Sophie says presents lead to other things, and, I don't know what other things are. I think that's pretty ambiguous on her part. And I know I'm not great with people, but I know jewelry means more than a robot, not that I don't really like the robot. But I just think that if you're giving me things then we should set some ground rules. Like, I have to give you things back. You like sports, right? I've always wanted to try to get that Jordan guy's jersey. Apparently it's hanging in the rafters of some old gym—"

"Parker, chill. It doesn't have to be as complicated as all that."

"But Hardison," she sighed. "I just… I don't want to do this wrong."

"Girl, you couldn't do anything wrong. Look, Sophie, me, Nate, we all get to play the big parts. We're princes and CEO's and producers and duchesses, so we get to have all the bling. That necklace is just a little something you deserve. Just cause you have to wear black and climb through vents all day doesn't mean you can't have something shiny."

She let the cool metal slide through her fingers. "Thanks Hardison."

"No problem. You know where to find me."

"Hardison?"

"Yeah?"

"What about Eliot? Does he get something shiny, too?"

"Girl, Nate and Sophie got him a frickin' sword for Christmas last year. That's enough shiny to last him a lifetime."

"Night Hardison."

"Night Parker."

She hung up the phone and let it fall on a towel below her hammock. Raising her head, she slipped the chain around her neck, fingering the plate every few minutes as she drifted off. Once he had suggested they go to Tokyo. He got her tickets to that robot thing. And now this chain. He never did anything completely blatant. It was always low-key, suggestions tossed up as if by accident. 'Hey, we're at this burger place, we should go get it while we can.' 'Have you seen the effects in this movie? Let's watch it now before Nate calls with more work.' 'I just hacked the schedule of that jet-ski rental place in the Hamptons. If you want to come with me and Eliot, that's cool.'

But where exactly was he going with all of this? Parker realized, for the first time in her life, that she didn't care where Alec was going. She just wanted to go with him. Besides, he might need to distract somebody one day. And what's a bigger distraction than falling… off a building, or in love?

_Reviews appreciated :) _


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